


Broken Glass

by Gumihou



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: First Class (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, M/M, Mpreg, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 21:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12021648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumihou/pseuds/Gumihou
Summary: After being isolated for a long time, Erik just wanted to feel something. It's fine if Charles hated him. The pain is worth it to feel another person's warmth against his skin.There is a being under his skin, now. He's not sure if that's better or not, but it's there, and at least he's no longer alone.





	Broken Glass

He had noticed, in a vague periphery way, how the bearers who came to the Brotherhood always seemed to glow with power as they sat before him in their misery. The outcast of outcasts, evidence of their indiscretion brewing in their bellies; Erik had welcomed them into his fold, every additional mutant given a good welcome, medical treatment and, perhaps even more importantly, companionship of their own kind.

He was never around for the birth, what with one thing or another. He saw the children of course; it was never too early to induct them into the mutant cause. He occasionally wondered about the parent, whose power seemed dimmed after the child was out, but chalked it up to the many trials and tribulations one might face in a difficult pregnancy.

Then Charles happened to him.

Once they had broken him out from that underground bunker, metal had called to him naturally. Magneto was never really deprived of his power, while the homo sapiens might deprive him of every metal within his reach, they could not remove him from the magnetic poles or keep the trace minerals in their veins from his senses. North remained North as constant as the poles. He could levitate himself within the chamber, no more than a foot or two off the cement flooring, but it was something to do.

All was quiet in the Xavier jet. They had played chess, one game after another. It felt odd to be in the presence of Charles Xavier without the presence of Charles. The scruffy man before him seemed somehow diminished, small, in pain and full of anger. They settled at a hotel near where Trask was supposed to be found. There were plans to make and a mission to prepare.

It was odd to see Charles stalking and snarling at everything like a wounded prey. The moment the door shut behind the scruffy brute Logan, leaving them alone in a room with a plush bed, Charles had attacked. Erik let him.

Their movements were frantic and painful to Erik, but what was pain to having Charles next to him? To be able to breathe his scent after the nothingness of the plastic and concrete prison, to hear his own name in the lips of the one that had lingered long in his mind?

No, pain was nothing.

Survival of their species was everything. 

The thoughts of those bearers had flashed in his mind as Charles moved within him. When it was over, Erik was careful to keep his hips tilted at an angle to keep everything in. Even if it did not result in a child, he wished to absorb Charles’ essence into his body as much as possible before the inevitable clean up next morning.

There was no way to know or be sure until much later. However Erik was leaving nothing to chance for his possible offspring’s future.

Mystique will just have to die.

000000

At the end of the week, Mystique did not die. Erik had talked a good talked and dropped a whole stadium on top of the White House, things were finally going his way when Mystique shot him in the neck and Charles froze him in place. At that moment, he only felt numb, betrayed. Then Charles had released his hold.

Erik had floated away to sulk somewhere. Nevertheless, his speech had seen national television. The hidden mutants would at least know that they are not alone and would not easily trust government mooks. Raven would seek them out, he could trust her to be true to the cause that way. The cause did not need him. If he had learn anything at all during his ten years confinement, was that the Brotherhood did not require his presence to keep it alive.

Some three weeks later, he threw up at the smell of his breakfast and continued the ritual for almost ten days before reconciling with his rash decision to sleep with Charles. Erik would have been contented to remove himself into some remote mountainous area and deliver the child with nothing more than a sharpened spoon and surgical threads if it were not for the sudden announcement that the government had caught the person in charge of breaking out prisoner 0001. As soon as he set eyes on the poster of young Peter, ‘My mom used to know someone like that’, Erik knew leaving was out of the question.

It took some work to find out where they kept the boy. Then again, some skills never leave a person, and Erik has developed very comprehensive investigative techniques during his Nazi hunting years. Money he has plenty, stashed in gold bricks disguised in crumbling old walls. Naturally, it would be very suspicious to bring whole bricks of gold to sell, but Erik could easily spin off bits of gold into delicate bracelets, rings, pendants and other knickknack as needed and pawned them off for cash. The jewellery did not even have to be very good, only gold, but Erik was of the opinion that if something was worth doing, was worth doing well.

Un-beknowest to him, his small collection of jewellery, embossed with a tiny stylized M eventually made it to the drawing room of some ostentatious rich housewife with an eye for fine things who spent the rest of her life tracking down M’s work.

For Erik, breaking the boy out turned out to be a ridiculously simple task. He fried the mechanical fail safes as soon as they were within his senses, jam alarms and snapped telephone lines. In the panicked hubbub, metal locks tumbled and release their secrets willingly. Guns, zippers and buttons melted. The metal lined floors, ceilings and the very walls were his weapons.

No, getting Peter out was not the problem. What he needed to do next was seek out a safe place to stash the boy. Clearly, Peter could not go back to Magda, not yet. Erik could bring the boy to his lair in the mountains, but for some odd reason, he felt reluctant to share news of his possible thing with the young mutant. Nor did he knew where Mystique went, who must have been busy now with new recruitments ever since the news report, she was featured heavily there too after all.

In the end there was only one logical solution, with a sign, he started up the little car he had stolen with a flick of his mind and sent them quickly, albeit still within the speed limit, to Westchester. 

On the way, Erik stopped at a supermarket to buy some groceries. Knowing Charles and Hank, their fridge probably contained more mold samples and experiments than actual food. Where Erik had been contented to eat whatever that vaguely resembled food to fuel his body before charging out the train his body to face whatever threat to the mutant cause, he had to be more careful now.

Also, he felt like having artichokes for dinner and maybe some apple cake to wash it down. The mansion has a perfectly serviceable kitchen in it and he wanted to know what Peter might think of briskets and challah bread.

Charles knew they were coming of course. He was in a wheelchair again, brow furrowed in concentration. It was close to noon now, and there was no hiding the car coming up the driveway. Erik made short work of the rusting gates, tucking a mental note to fix the annoying squeak and groan that badly treated iron makes. Really, Charles should have people to take care of the place. 

It was supposed to be a school wasn’t it? A bastion of learning and respectability?

“What is this dump?” asked Peter who was hanging out of the window like a cheerful dog. His floppy hair made his face even more dog like.

Erik sighed. He pulled the car to a stop in the driveway, or what’s left of it.

Charles rolled up in his wheelchair. “Erik,” he said in that careful way of his.

Erik inclined his head. “Charles,”

There was a pause.

Then, Charles said. “You broke Peter out.”

“Yes,”

Charles frowned and wheeled closer. “You didn’t kill anyone.”

“Mmm,” Erik wasn’t about to inform Charles that the smell of fresh blood made his stomach queasy, or that the last thing he need was to puke his guts out in the middle of security infested government lair.

He could and did kill a strategic few via brain aneurysm, not that anyone had to know. Not that he cared if anyone find out, but it would be useful to have a way of killing people that does not connect the act to him.

His fine control over metal had increased drastically in the past couple of weeks, something that had puzzled and delighted him equally. He wondered about the previous bearers now. At their almost visible power, he had previously theorized that only powerful mutants could be bearers since all of them are pretty powerful when they came to the Brotherhood for asylum.

Now, Erik wondered.

Charles was still talking, so Erik pulled his attention back to the present. Charles was saying, “Will you be staying?” in that half hopeful way of his.

Erik stared back as impassively as he could at the probable father of his child. He has groceries in the car and the last decent food he had was over 72 hours ago. “I need your kitchen.”

With that, he popped the trunk with his power, grabbed the groceries and made for the kitchen.

 

000000

 

Erik was known to stress cook. He would chop things, stir, whisk and dole things out in metal spoons and flip omelets all at the same time. It was pretty incredible to see, also very useful when they had a houseful of teenage bottomless pits in the house. At the moment, he was grating potatoes, whisking eggs, and chopping up onions while consulting a recipe for briskets. He had not made any in years. There were no artichokes at the market, so he had to settle for just latkes.

He took out a bar of chocolate, contemplating whether to melt it into a dipping for the latkes (None traditional, but he has a craving for something deep fried and covered in chocolate) or make a whole dessert out of it. In the end he decided it was easier to just make a mousse with some egg whites, putting the yolks with the omelette mixture and adding more mushrooms into it. He adored mushrooms.

He vaguely notice when Hank McCoy crept to the kitchen, but as the sometimes furry mutant was just standing there mulishly, Erik decided to ignore him. The mushroom puffs were just about ready. He couldn’t wait. He was just sipping a glass of milk when Charles wheeled into the kitchen with large eyes, staring at Erik like he had sprouted wings or horns or well…

“Erik? Something you’d like to tell me?” Charles’ voice was very even.

The oven pinged, Erik popped the door opened and floated the mushroom puffs out. No sense letting good food burn. Deliberately turning away he made the metal strainer fish out the latkes by itself and the salt shaker to dust it lightly in sea salt. He stuffed one latke into his mouth to avoid answering. The fried potatoes burned his mouth, but he kept on chewing.

“Erik?”

Erik glared. “Can we do this later? I haven’t had any decent food over ten years.” So saying, he dipped the next latke into the chocolate, mmm the crunchiness of the potatoes really compliments the creaminess of the chocolate, not to mention how the salt enhances the chocolatiness of the chocolate. Erik hummed happily.

“Are you sure you should be eating those?”

Erik glared, and deliberately ate another chocolate latke. Charles’ eyes tracked the movements.  
Peter zoomed in enthusiastically. “Can I have some too?”

Erik thought about it for a moment, then pushed the pile of latkes over with the chocolate dip. The teenager fairly leapt at the salty, chocolate covered deep fried stuff. Erik eyed the puffs; they should be cool enough to eat now.

“Erik!”

When Erik finally looked up, the omelettes were done and plated. About a third of the puffs had been eaten, mostly by Peter and Hank who had slunk a couple more feet in. Charles continued to look tensed and uncertain.

Erik poured himself another glass of milk. He said. “Let’s talk,” and made his way out to the hallway.

As soon as they were out of sight of the kitchen, Charles confronted him. “How is this even possible?”

Erik debated being flippant.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Fine, and stay out of my head, Charles.”

Charles glared up. “I will if you start talking now.”

“Fine.” There was another paused. Finally, he said. “The Brotherhood has only encountered two bearers so far. One was abandoned by his partner when he found out about mutation, the other was a product of love match.”

“And their mutation?”

“One could process sunlight as food, he’s a life guard at one of the many beaches of Miami. The other could make fermented food process faster.”

“So the ability to bear children is more like a secondary mutation.”

“Trust me, we figure that part out ourselves.”

Charles gave him an unamused look. “And did you investigate this further?”

“And how, might I ask, am I to investigate this further?”

“The scientific implication, the children’s inherited DNA, for goodness sake how the child is going to come out for fuck sake!”

The last bit ended in a shout. Peter zipped in to view. “Erik?” he frowned glancing between him and Charles. “What’s going on?”

Erik gave them all a look as brittle as a frost covered branch. 

“I think,” he said distantly, “I’m going to be sick.” And promptly threw up on Charles’ feet.

 

000000

To say that Charles was stunned was an understatement. Shocked, bewildered, astonished, taken aback and flabbergasted were all pretty good words to describe his current state of mind. It reminded him of the time Erik dropped an entire stadium on them. Erik has a bad habit of dropping off random shock inducing bombs like that, sometimes even literally.

This time it was a baby bomb. One that Hank had helpfully confirmed via blood test. Erik’s blood was now flooded with an amazing amount of progesterone. There was no ultra sound machine in the lab so they couldn’t confirm things that way, but from the preliminary results it did seemed highly possible that Erik was now with child.

At Charles’ slightly hysterical question of just how the child was going to pop out, Hank had a mad gleam in his eye as he offered up several hypotheses. Many of which Charles tried very hard not to imagine. Erik was awake now and was oddly content to lie on the hospital bed as the two of them fling different speculations at each other over his exposed stomach. A finely chiselled stomach that made Charles cringed at the thought of his own soft belly.

He wallowed in some vindictive glee at the thought of those ridiculous abs giving way to a beer gut. A beer gut and a baby gut should look similar, right?

Somehow he could not picture an actual in family way stomach on Erik’s astonishingly thin waist and hips.

“Are you two about done now?” The metal in the room vibrated a little. “Because I would like to go to the bathroom,”

“Of course,” Charles winced at his own over excited voice, but continued on gamely. “Sure, you can get up.”

Erik merely gave him a look, then pushed himself off the table. He did not bother with the lab’s connecting bathroom. Instead he made his way up the stairs, going for the upper floors.

“Charles,” Hank was wiping his glasses with a piece of cloth. “I must ask you, what is it that you intent to do with this situation.”

“This house is a shelter for every mutant,” said Charles for the lack of a proper answer.

Hank raised an eyebrow, his pale skinny face spoke volumes.

Charles looked helplessly at his friend. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

To his credit, Hank focused on the practical side of the Erik situation. “He will need proper nutrition, and prenatal care. None of which I am familiar with. I will read up on the literature for this of course, but results are more than likely to be skewed due to the fact that he is a male bearer, to use the Brotherhood’s own description, and a powerful metallokinetic mutant. Not to mention the fact that we would need to research into how we should arrange for the birth…”


End file.
